


After

by LacePendragon



Category: RWBY
Genre: Agender Ozpin (RWBY), Angst, Immortal Ozpin, Minor Grandmasters, Other, World of Remnant Based
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-13 21:23:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LacePendragon/pseuds/LacePendragon
Summary: It’s the end of the Great War and Ozpin is so very, very tired.





	After

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written January 16th, 2017. Reposted October 31st, 2018. Happy Halloween.

The final battle of the Great War destroyed half a continent, sowed fear across the world, and murdered thousands upon thousands of soldiers. Innocent lives struck down for the sake of a battle that could have been prevented if only they’d acted sooner.

In the aftermath, while the world mourned, Ozpin, the so-called king of Vale, found themself lingering on an old cliff at the edge of the battlefield. They sat on a rock, sceptre planted in the ground between their legs, hands folded over it, and sword at their hip.

It was a cool night, and the direction of the wind kept the smell of death and blood from them, as well as the sounds of soldiers, Vale and Vacuo alike, who were trying to find their fallen brethren.

Already, rumours of Ozpin’s feats spread through the battlefield like wildfire. How they’d moved without moving; how they’d been everywhere at once; how they’d slain a thousand people in an instant; how the weather itself seemed to listen to Ozpin’s words.

“The great and terrible King,” the people called Ozpin. “May he live long and be merciful in the new world.”

Ozpin sighed and closed their eyes, bowing their head forward until it touched their folded hands atop their sceptre. They took a deep breath, then another. The wind shifted directions and the scent of blood flooded their senses until Ozpin gagged and stood, walking to the edge of the cliff.

The rest of the battle, and its aftermath, laid below, streaks where the Grimm had vanished mixed with blood and bodies until Ozpin wasn’t sure just what this final battle had been fought against. People, or monsters.

But then, was there much of a difference, these days?

“Hello, Ozpin.” The words came to them on the wind, sultry and feminine in a way few Ozpin knew were. They sighed again, soft as a whisper. They’d know that voice anywhere. Better than their own, in truth.

Ozpin turned. “Hello, Salem.”

She hummed, standing tall next to the rock that Ozpin had sat upon a moment ago. Even here, in the mortal world, she did not seem to touch the ground. Her dress floated, drifting smoke around them both, and Ozpin knew what it meant.

She wasn’t really here. She couldn’t be. They’d locked her away long ago, when they’d first come to the mortal world of Remnant. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t project.

Only that Ozpin was the only one who could see her.

“Quite the battle you’ve fought here,” said Salem. She drifted forward, her movements too fluid to be proper steps, and stood next to Ozpin, looking over the remnants of the last battle of the Great War. “I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me how you won it?”

Ozpin frowned and laid their hands over the sceptre again, standing it on the hard ground beneath their feet. Their sword was heavy on their hip, weighing them down.

Ozpin never wanted to draw it again.

“It’s over. Humanity is saved. Does it matter what I had to do?” asked Ozpin, bitterness coating their tongue and their words in equal measure.

Salem hummed and tilted her head. “They want to crown you their world leader.”

“They do,” agreed Ozpin.

Salem looked to Ozpin. “You don’t want them to, do you?” Ozpin said nothing. Salem sighed. “You were never ambitious enough, Ozpin, always too passive. Too content to stay in the background, even when others saw fit to crown you ruler.” She cast a disdainful glance over the battlefield. “We both know what you’re capable of.”

“It is not my destiny,” said Ozpin. “Remnant should be united under its people, not under…”

“Whatever it is we are?” finished Salem. She shook her head. “I do not believe there’s a _word_ for you and I, Ozpin. Not gods, no, and not demons either. The first, perhaps,” she tilted her head and hummed again, “but even that seems inadequate, given our origins.”

Ozpin frowned. It was an argument they’d had a thousand times, perhaps more. It was what had started their war, so many years ago. Or perhaps it wasn’t. It was difficult to know. They’d been fighting almost as long as they’d existed.

Once the brothers, their creators, the very gods themselves, had fallen, it had become all too easy to forget their purpose when the two had been created. Keeping the balance: between light and dark, sun and shadow, good and evil.

Ozpin and Salem.

Imperfect pre-humans, created separately, unlike humanity itself.

“No, I suppose there is not,” said Ozpin. “Though I hardly see why that matters.”

“You are as human as I am,” said Salem.

Ozpin hummed and did not look at her. Instead, they focused on the soldiers carrying the bodies from the field, on the others who were stalking the edges for Grimm that watched for a quick meal, and on those who seemed to simply drift, unsure of what to do.

Ozpin couldn’t blame them.

“Perhaps,” said Ozpin, after a long pause, “but that does not mean I am outside humanity.”

“And yet you hide such a large part of yourself from them,” said Salem, sounding bitter. Ozpin said nothing, simply pressed their lips together and looked away. “They call you ‘king’, do they not?”

“They do,” agreed Ozpin.

Salem sighed. “They boast that you are the greatest man who ever lived, that you are the king, crowned to rule Vale with great strength and wisdom.” Her voice took on a mocking tone as she spoke, only to abruptly switch back to serious on their next words. “And yet, you hide the very thing that drew you to humanity in the first place.”

Ozpin’s hands tightened on the sceptre and they pressed their lips together. “They are not ready.”

“Humanity showed you there were _options_ , Ozpin. That you were not confined to the role you were given,” said Salem.

Good and evil.

Day and night.

Male and female.

Ozpin and Salem.

The brothers had been wrong on one account, at least.

“You never hid yourself from me,” said Salem, softly. Ozpin closed their eyes and took a breath, steadying themself.

“Humanity is not yet prepared for such wild scale acceptance of that which they do not understand,” said Ozpin. When Salem went to protest, they continued, “ _I_ am prepared to make sacrifices for my people, Salem. Yes, there are others like me – _humans_ like me. It is my strongest connection to them. But most believe the same things our creators did.”

“Dichotomy,” said Salem, answering the unspoken question. She shook her head. “If only the world were so simple.”

“Indeed,” said Ozpin. The two went silent for a bit, watching the soldiers. One broke down crying on the battlefield over a fallen body and they were taken away. Somewhere, out in the wilds, were the four maidens, sweeping the area for larger threats and hiding away until Salem was gone.

Ozpin had suspected she’d appear. She didn’t need to know who the maidens were.

Nor that Ozpin had had all four on the battlefield today.

“You have the relics,” said Salem.

Ozpin nodded. “I do.”

“Where are you taking them?” asked Salem. Another question asked a thousand times. “Where will you hold them?”

Ozpin tilted their head toward Salem, one eyebrow raised. “Where do you think?”

She frowned, looking from Ozpin to the battlefield, then back again. Ozpin could see her piecing it together from their speech after the three leaders had bowed to them.

“The schools,” she said, slowly. “You’re going to put them in the schools.”

Ozpin said nothing.

“You can’t possibly expect _them_ to be able to protect the relics from me,” said Salem, gesturing toward the broken people on the battlefield.

“They will,” said Ozpin, firmly. “They all will, Salem. Once I’ve helped raise the schools and start their training, there will be nothing in this world or the next that can stop them.”

Salem sighed. “You naïve fool,” she murmured. She reached out and caressed Ozpin’s cheek. Ozpin leaned into it without really thinking. “Do you remember what we were, Ozpin?”

“I do,” they whispered. Ozpin reached up and rested their hand on Salem’s wrist. The two locked eyes, red and brown intertwining, and Ozpin offered Salem a small smile before lowering her hand from their face and dropping it. “You know we cannot be that anymore, Salem.”

“I do,” she agreed. She cast a glance out to the battlefield and shook her head. “You know, I admire them, in a way.”

“Oh?” asked Ozpin.

Salem nodded and looked back to Ozpin. “United, humanity is the strongest force on the planet. Their ability to derive that strength from their hope is a great asset.”

Ozpin nodded as well. “Indeed it is, that is why I will focus my power on nursing that asset until it becomes a weapon.”

“And that is why I will turn all my strength to snuffing it out,” said Salem. She turned to face Ozpin properly and Ozpin faced her as well. “We were created to destroy one another, Ozpin.”

“We were created to keep the balance,” they replied. Empty words for repeated phrases, cyclical, like anything else with them.

Salem’s lips twitched. “You and I both know that hasn’t been true since our creators fell to their own hubris.”

“I do,” agreed Ozpin with a nod. “You won’t win, Salem, not so long as I stand against them.”

“We shall see,” said Salem. With a quiet sigh, she stepped in and cradled Ozpin’s face in one hand. Ozpin allowed themself to lean into it and close their eyes, revelling in the connection they shared. Not aura, not blood, not even soul. But something deeper.

Something that no one else could come close to.

They’d been born to defeat each other. The champions of each brother. One day, one of them would fall. One of them would die. The other would rise.

Most days, Ozpin didn’t know which it would be.

Most days, Ozpin didn’t think either of them knew which one they wanted it to be.

For what was one of them without the other?

Ozpin rested their hand atop Salem’s and opened their eyes, smiling softly at her. Whether it was fond or bitter, neither could hazard a guess toward. “One day, Salem.”

“One day,” she agreed. She stepped in close and let her lips ghost across Ozpin’s. The taste was tart and bitter, but Ozpin had never minded. Ozpin hoped they never would.

When she pulled back, Salem cast one glance at the battlefield, a plan forming behind her eyes.

“You’ll know,” she said. She turned back to face Ozpin. “When I make my first move, you’ll know.” Salem stepped back from the edge and walked passed Ozpin, hesitating at the rock they’d sat on minutes before. She cast a glance over her shoulder. “You should find yourself a council this time, a proper one. You cannot rely on the Maidens or yourself forever.”

“And you’ll do the same?” asked Ozpin.

Salem smiled, serene, but it hid something darker beneath the surface. She nodded. “I will.” After a moment, she added, “I won’t wish you luck.”

“Nor will I.”

“May the best win,” said Salem.

Ozpin nodded once more. “I will see you soon, Salem.”

She shook her head, mouth twisting bitterly as she turned away from them. “Not soon enough,” she said. With that, she vanished, smoke and smell fading away into nothingness.

Ozpin turned back to the battlefield and looked down upon it. A council of sorts, yes, they could do that. Something to help them when things got rough or when they needed to be in many places at once. They’d always had a fondness for humanity’s hidden magics. Perhaps it was time they started collecting those that could be of use to them.

Shapeshifters. Sorceresses. Lost fairy tales and heroes. Not just the maidens.

But that would all come soon enough. Right now, there was a battlefield to clean, relics to hide, and schools to build.

Everything else would come after.


End file.
